The Forsaken Man Who Shook The World

Chapter 3. The Secret

Two men in black suits and dark sunglasses walked straight toward Jackson and bowed respectfully before the young man in shabby clothes.

Instantly, Jackson glanced left, right, and behind him—checking if anyone else was watching what was happening.

“What are you doing here?!”

Jackson knew these men must have been sent by his father. He knew for certain that his father would never stop looking for him.

“We bring a letter from the Master for you, Young President,” one of the men said as he extended an envelope toward Jackson, still bowing respectfully.

Jackson quickly turned away and walked past them. But before he could go far, one of the men slipped the letter into his pocket. In the blink of an eye, both of them rushed back into the luxury car, and the vehicle sped away.

“Damn it! I told you I don’t want to see this letter!”

Jackson shouted in frustration, throwing a punch into the air to release his anger at their audacity for leaving the envelope in his pocket so boldly.

After returning from his father-in-law’s oil palm plantation, Jackson went to help Jennyfer gather the laundry at the back of the house, just as he did every day.

Usually, his wife would be coming home from campus around this time. Even though her studies were finished, Brielle had still been going there daily to take care of administrative matters related to her degree.

Jackson hurried through his chores so he could finish early and clean himself up after a long, sweaty day of work. But since there was too much to do, he hadn’t managed to wash up yet. So, when he saw his wife walk through the door, he immediately went to greet her.

“Darling, you’re home. Let me carry your bag for you.”

“You haven’t showered yet?! Ugh, you reek of sweat. Don’t touch it, I don’t want my bag smelling like you. Go wash up first,” Brielle said, unwilling to get too close to her husband.

“Alright. You should wash up too, Darling, so you won’t feel so tired. After that, I’ll make a special dinner just for you.”

“Hmm.”

“Or… why don’t we take a shower together, Darling?” Jackson whispered with a grin, gazing at his beautiful wife, whose face was always polished with makeup, making her look even more dazzling.

“Jackson! What did you just say?!”

A shrill voice suddenly cut through the air. Jackson flinched as Madam Ester, who had been standing nearby, grabbed his ear and twisted it painfully.

“Uh?! I-It’s not what you think, Ma’am, I-I was just—” Jackson stammered, his words cut off by the searing pain shooting through his ear.

“Go to your room at the back! Now!”

“Y-Yes, Ma’am.”

Like a scolded child caught stealing, Jackson could only obey, enduring the humiliation as always. Madam Ester had never allowed him to be close to Brielle—even though Brielle was his lawful wife.

“Hahaaa!”

A mocking laugh rang out from the front of the house.

Jackson froze when he saw the same man who had humiliated him yesterday—Jacob—standing there, smirking.

“Jacob? You didn’t go home yet?” Brielle asked in mild surprise.

“I couldn’t leave without greeting my future mother-in-law, Darling. Hehee. How are you, Auntie?”

Jacob strode confidently toward Madam Ester and extended his hand.

“Oh, so you’re the one who brought Brielle home. I’ve been wanting to meet you, Jacob. Ckckck… rich and handsome. Today you look especially striking,” Madam Ester praised, already enamored with the idea of having a wealthy son-in-law like Jacob.

Jackson’s chest burned hot as he listened, his heart pounding heavily.

“You flatter me, Auntie. Hehee.”

Jacob, dressed in the latest stylish fashion, ran his hand through his slicked-back hair, exuding charm for everyone in the room. Jackson silently clenched his jaw.

“Come, come inside. Brielle, take our special guest to the living room.”

“Yes, Mother. Jacob, this way.”

“Hey! What are you still standing here for?!” Madam Ester snapped at Jackson, furious to see him lingering.

“Uh? O-of course, Ma’am,” Jackson muttered nervously, turning away, though his chest burned even hotter.

“Wait! Make a drink for our guest!”

Jackson turned back, stunned, pointing at himself. “M-Me, Ma’am?”

“Yes, you! Who else? Make Jacob a hot coffee with milk. And don’t take too long!”

“... Y-Yes, Ma’am.”

“Does that man even know how to make a drink for me, Auntie?” Jacob asked loudly, his face full of disdain.

“Of course, he does. He’s the house servant, after all.”

“Oh, having a male servant isn’t bad at all, Auntie,” Jacob said mockingly.

Helpless, Jackson did as he was told. His chest was shaking with anger, but as always, he stayed silent. Madam Ester and her family treated him however they pleased.

The truth was, Brielle had only married him because her grandfather, Jakara, had insisted. He had plucked Jackson, a poor street orphan, and demanded that Brielle marry him.

After hearing Jakara’s condition, Brielle’s parents had no choice but to agree—for if they complied, they would inherit ten percent of the old man’s wealth.

And so it happened. Jackson had been married to Brielle for nearly two years, but the two of them had never shared the same room. The excuse was always the same: Brielle needed to focus on her studies and couldn’t risk getting pregnant.

It was an utterly absurd reason. But what could Jackson do? With no wealth, no career, and no background beyond the streets, he had nothing to his name except his looks.

Yes, even in worn-out clothes, his handsome face was undeniable. Yet that was the only thing he could claim as his own.

He obeyed. Always. And he wasn’t allowed to complain.

Sometimes, Madam Ester even punished him by refusing him dinner—just because he hadn’t finished cleaning the countless glass doors in the mansion, having been too busy working on the plantation.

But in truth, that wasn’t the real reason.

The real secret… was something only Madam Ester and her eldest daughter, Brielle, knew.

-

“Jackson! Jackson!!”

Just as Jackson finished cleaning himself, suddenly his name was shouted out loudly once again. Without a second thought, Jackson jogged toward the dining room, since that was where his mother-in-law’s voice had come from.

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“What on earth were you doing?! Why does it take you so long to bathe? Hurry up and help Jenny bring the rice and set the dinner table!”

Jackson was a little startled to see that not only Jacob was there, but also the dining room was now crowded with relatives from his mother-in-law’s side: the Samuel family and the Firdaus family.

“Oh, yes Ma’am.”

There were also three young women present. They were Brielle’s and Jennyfer’s cousins. Samuel, who was Madam Ester’s older brother, was a widower with two daughters, and tonight he had brought them along—Dinda and Kanya. Meanwhile, Firdaus, Madam Ester’s younger brother, had come with his wife Fitri and their only daughter, Fernita.

“Jacob, you don’t have a girlfriend yet, do you? How about becoming my son-in-law?” Fitri, the wife of Firdaus, asked with a smile, glancing at Jacob who was now seated between Madam Ester and Brielle.

“Well, not yet, hehee. Sure, why not, Auntie. But you see, Jacob isn’t arrogant or anything, but whoever wants to be with me has to be patient. I mean, besides being this handsome, Jacob is also well-off. So yeah, naturally, there are plenty of women lining up.”

Jacob spoke casually, though his eyes occasionally flickered toward Jackson, who at that moment was busy helping Jennyfer place plates of rice on the table. His words were clearly meant as a jab at Jackson, who was never admired, praised, or even wanted by anyone.

“You’re absolutely right, Jacob. I’m standing in that line too,” Madam Ester said with a laugh.

“Hahaa! You want to give a dream son-in-law like Jacob to Jenny?! That naïve youngest daughter of yours?” Fitri asked her sister-in-law in a serious tone.

“Not naïve, Ma’am, but stupid,” Fernita, Firdaus and Fitri’s daughter, cut in mockingly.

“Hahaaa!”

The room erupted with laughter. Everyone laughed heartily except for Jackson and Jennyfer.

“Yes, that wouldn’t be a match at all. Better let Jacob be my son-in-law. He can choose between Dinda or Kanya, whichever he prefers. Both of Uncle Sam’s daughters are young, educated, and highly accomplished. There’s no doubt about their quality.”

Jacob smiled proudly, brimming with arrogance as everyone competed to praise him and even fight over the chance to have him as a son-in-law. It was a moment that made him feel utterly superior.

“Oh please, don’t fight over him. Of course I wouldn’t give my stupid daughter away. Naturally, I’ll match Jacob with my most precious, educated daughter. You’re all misunderstanding,” Fitri declared.

“Exactly. I think you should throw away this useless son-in-law of yours. He’s completely worthless!” Samuel added, casting a sharp, disdainful look at Jackson.

“Sure, he’s got a decent face. But look at him—even after a bath, his beggar’s face still shows. Haizzz!” Fitri sneered again.

“You’re not deaf, are you?! Didn’t you hear what they said? If you’re done helping, get out of this dining room! Don’t ruin our appetite!” Madam Ester barked at Jackson, who could hardly believe that even when he had done nothing wrong, he was still scolded and insulted like that. After all, he had only come because she had called for him.

“Mother, Aunt, Uncle—please don’t say that. No matter what, Brother-in-law is Sister Brielle’s husband. He is your son-in-law,” Jennyfer finally spoke up, unable to hold it in any longer. All this time, she herself had been scorned and marginalized, and she had endured it silently. But Jackson? He was just an outsider, their son-in-law, and Jennyfer couldn’t bear to see him constantly humiliated like that—especially by his own wife’s family.

“You stupid child! How dare you?!”

Madam Ester exploded in anger upon hearing her youngest daughter’s defense of Jackson. The middle-aged woman rose from her chair, glaring furiously at Jennyfer.

“Your youngest daughter isn’t just stupid, Ester—she’s got too much guts as well. You should’ve married her off to that worthless son-in-law of yours instead of Brielle. That way, the two fools could live like beggars together. Isn’t that a perfect match?!” Fitri chimed in, fanning the flames.

“Hahaaa! Now that’s more like it. I totally agree with Aunt Ester,” Jacob added smugly, backing Fitri’s words with a mocking grin.

Jackson froze when he saw Brielle remain silent, even smiling, as Jacob wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Jackson’s fists itched to smash Jacob’s smug face for his arrogance and audacity. But his reason still held him back. How could he lash out at that scoundrel when his own wife accepted it so passively, even smiling?

“You insolent child!”

Fueled by provocation, Madam Ester strode furiously toward Jennyfer, who was now standing right in front of Jackson.

Her hand shot up, swinging hard—but in a flash, Jackson caught her palm before it could land on Jennyfer’s delicate cheek.

“Please don’t hit Jenny, Ma’am. It’s my fault. I’ll leave right now.”